Chapter 9
The next morning, Edwina was on her way to James’s chamber when she found Darina and Fergus waiting for her in the corridor, wearing fretful expressions.
“Has something happened?” Edwina asked, slowing to a stop. “Has James taken a turn for the worse?”
“Hard to say for certain,” Fergus replied uneasily. “He screamed loud and often during the course of the night.”
“I heard nothing,” she confessed.
“Fergus passed the night outside of his brother’s chamber,” Darina told her sister. “He heard it all.”
Upon closer inspection, Edwina saw that Fergus’s face was pale and drawn indeed.
“Do you truly believe you can liberate him from these woes?” he inquired hoarsely.
“For I have led men into battle, I have heard their screams of pain and death…and I swear before God Himself, never in my life have I heard anything so frightful and excruciating as what I heard from my brother these past hours. It chilled me to the bone, and in truth, it has made me begin to lose any hope of ever reuniting with the good man he used to be.”
Edwina nodded. “I can understand why you would be so terrified. For what it’s worth, I might add that your perception of his screams was doubtless exaggerated by the fact that he is your own dear brother rather than merely a comrade on the battlefield.
Our minds play tricks upon us when the ones we love are in pain. ”
“How are you so knowledgeable about such things?” Fergus asked.
“When Darina suggested that we invite you to stay with us a while and said that you might be able to help James…I will admit, I was quite skeptical. However, you seem to have a rather solid understanding of this sort of unpleasantness.”
She shrugged. “A curiosity born from boredom, I suppose. I found I had little interest in the things that amused my sisters, and so I spent an inordinate amount of time around the healers, learning all they would teach me. In doing so, I encountered several instances of wounded people becoming too dependant on opium, to the point where they continued its use—and, indeed, abuse—well after their wounds had healed.”
“Then you have seen cases as bad as this before?” Fergus demanded hopefully. “You have treated them yourself?”
Edwina was tempted to lie to him if only to ease his mind somewhat. But she decided that doing so would be a grave disservice to him and to her own sister.
“No, I confess this is by far the worst such case I have ever witnessed firsthand. Even so, I believe the basic principles of treating it remain the same.”
“He sounds as though he is dying in there,” he retorted fervently.
“No doubt he feels as though he is dying in there and very likely wishes that he was. The absence of that wretched stuff is wreaking havoc on every part of him. The need for it has gone beyond consuming him; it is truly breaking him down. But he must be broken down, and completely at that, if he is to be rebuilt stronger and more resilient than before.” She paused, then added, “If you believe that he had such fortitude before? That he might have it now, to lean upon in his time of greatest need?”
Fergus sighed, frustrated. “James has always had many types of strength. However, the way we were raised was hard on both of us and left deep scars. I fear that the threat of such a dependence—the urge to escape from himself, from reality—was always within him, to some degree, as a result of the horrors we endured at the hands of our father. I believe his wound might have merely opened the door to it.”
Edwina nodded slowly. “Very well. Thank you for revealing that to me. In circumstances such as these, it is often not enough to merely treat the addiction itself. Rather, we must address the initial cause of it so that it may be pulled up by the root. Otherwise, freeing his body from laudanum will be of no consequence, for his mind will still ultimately feel the desire to return to the comforts it provides. One thing at a time, though. I must administer to him a substitute for the stuff, which will hopefully provide an important first step in breaking him away from it entirely. And, of course, his isolation is key. He cannot be trusted to be on his own at this stage, for he will act out, and perhaps violently, in an attempt to secure more opiate by any means available. Simply put, Fergus, we are dealing with an animal in a snare. We must be prepared for it to do anything at all to foil us and escape, even if it means gnawing off a part of itself in the process.”
“What a horrible light to see my own brother in,” Fergus said, wincing.
“It is, yes, and I sympathize.”
“Is there anything either of us can do?” Darina asked.
She shook her head. “If there were, believe me, I would be the first to tell you. And there might indeed come a time when you might be able to lend a hand. If so, I shall let you know at once. For now, though, the only one who can truly help James is himself, and he must want to do so. Making him confront that is perhaps the most difficult part of this entire process.”
“We trust you implicitly, Sister,” Darina told her. “We know you will do what is best for him and employ all your skills in his salvation.”
Edwina saw no point in replying to this, for it was the truth, nothing more, and she had little use for formalities and pleasantries (as her father and siblings often reminded her). Instead, she simply moved along on her way to James’s room.
Darina would give Fergus the comforting words that he needed; she had no doubt of that. Meanwhile, she had work to do.
She knocked on the door, then produced the key for the lock. “James, it is Edwina. I am coming in, so if you are in a less-than-dignified state, I strongly suggest that you rectify that in the next several seconds.”
There was no answer, and she proceeded to enter. Some small part of her was concerned by what she might find, that perhaps the withdrawal had pushed his body past his limits and it had given out, or that he might have found some way to kill himself.
She was also tense as she considered the possibility that he might physically attack her in his desperation. Yes, his leg was nearly useless and he was in the throes of withdrawal, but that second part, as she’d just warned Fergus and Darina, might make him all the more dangerous.
However, she found him sprawled on what remained of his bed, staring up at the ceiling with bleary and disconnected eyes. If it had not been for the ragged rise and fall of his chest, she might have initially thought he had passed in the night.
“Have you come to deliver more speeches and scoldings, woman?” he rasped. “If so, take your leave at once, for I’ll have none of it. I would much rather lie here and die in silence than listen to you.”
“Your sharpened words are arrow shafts which break easily upon the thick and stony ramparts of my emotions, James, I assure you,” she replied with a smirk.
“I have every reason to believe that you will tolerate my presence for the simple reason that I have come bearing something which might ease your pain.”
He looked up at her hopefully. “You…you have brought me laudanum after all? You mean to wean me off in smaller doses?”
“Certainly not, for smaller doses will only stoke your desire for larger ones. The longer even the smallest portion of the vile stuff remains within your body, the deeper its claws will sink into you.”
“They can surely sink no deeper than they already have,” he moaned, his head slumping back down onto the pillow. “Give me laudanum, or give me some poison that will end my suffering, I beg you.”
“From insulting to pleading in a span of mere seconds?” she observed. “My, my, this dependence of yours appears to be shaking you back and forth like a rag doll in the jaws of a particularly vicious dog.”
“Why do you come here to babble to me about dolls and dogs and medicines that will not help me?” he bellowed. “Why do you mock me so?!”
“I have not come here to mock you, James. I assure you that I did not inconvenience myself by traveling such a great distance for such a paltry purpose. Rather, I have come to help you, and in doing so, help my sister, her husband, and the clan she has married into. I submit to you that it is you who have made a mockery of yourself, and a tragic one. However, I am beginning to understand why you have done so.”
“Because I was wounded and in pain, you obtuse witch!” he snarled. “Because I required medicine, and it was denied to me!”
“If you will take the medicine I have brought for you,” she replied primly, holding up the small bottle of the herbs she’d mixed, “then perhaps your pain will be quelled at least enough for us to exchange words in a civil and reasonable tone. Or, if you prefer to refuse it, I shall withdraw and leave you to your suffering. The choice is entirely yours…as, you will find, are a great many choices you face when it comes to this malady.”
He lay there for a few more moments, gasping and panting, his face corpse-white and oily with sweat. At last, he said, “Give me your damnable ‘medicine,’ then, for I suppose it is better than nothing. And it can hardly make me feel any worse than I already do, so the worst it can do is kill me.”
“It’s not going to kill you. Keep your arms at your sides, and I shall administer it. You ought not expend more energy than you must at this stage.” She went to him, uncorked the bottle, and dripped the contents into his mouth. “Lie still and give it a few moments to work.”
He nodded faintly, closing his eyes. Slowly, the tightness in his face began to go slack, and his breathing grew steadier. Spots of color appeared high on his cheeks, and when he opened his eyes again, there was more clarity and focus in them.
“Tell me how you feel,” she prompted.
“The pains in my body have…subsided somewhat,” James admitted. “It is easier for me to think clearly now.”
“Very good. I will assume that you have no particular desire to express thanks, and so I shall not expect any from you.”
He looked away, embarrassed. “Thank you. I am sorry for my words earlier. My agony got the best of me.”
“Yes, I should say so. When you are in the grip of something so horrible, it is difficult to remember that your words and actions affect others. However, going forward—even when the pain has returned, even if it grows worse than before—I must ask you to keep this in mind. I have no desire to be harangued by a man I am trying with all my might to assist.”
“I will do my best to restrain my temper in that event, though given the severity of the anguish, I would be a fool to promise it outright,” he conceded.
Edwina nodded. “That is fair enough, I suppose. I would always prefer honesty, even if the truth is uncomfortable. This is the only way that we can hope to make progress together. If you conceal the truth of any part of your condition from me, then I will be unable to address it, and my ministrations will be every bit as useless as you claimed they were a few moments ago.”
“I did apologize for that,” he replied a trifle defensively.
“You did, and I shall make every endeavor to forgive you.”
“But what you just said about the pain coming back, perhaps even worse than before…” He swallowed hard. “That won’t happen, will it? Not really?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Like you, I cannot in good conscience make promises without knowing whether I can truly keep them. These processes are often unpredictable. There will be more pain, certainly, before this has concluded. This mixture I have given you will make it less sharp so that you may conquer it if you choose to do so. Your pain will likely never entirely disappear, though. Part of our work together will be learning to live with it, without resorting to the wanton self-destruction exemplified by imbibing bottle after bottle of poison.”
“This remedy of yours…” He licked his lips, which appeared so dry and cracked that she saw flecks of blood dried on them from where they’d split. “May I have some more of it?”
“If I refuse you, will you once again begin to thunder and rage that I take pleasure in being cruel to you?” she answered with a raised eyebrow.
“For the third time…!”
“Yes, you apologized, and it was appreciated. I am merely making a point: You may apologize when you are in a less agonized and more reasonable state, and I may forgive you, but that should not allow you to forget yourself the next time. Your words have effects.”
“I understand.” From the sound of it, he genuinely did.
Well, that was a step in the right direction, at any rate.
“I cannot administer more of the stuff to you now,” she explained patiently.
“First of all, if you believe that it works in the same manner that the laudanum does, that to take twice as much will give you twice as much relief from your woes, then you are mistaken. It does not function that way. It will dull your pain, but it cannot erase it completely or send you into a comforting stupor as the opiate did. To expect these things from it will be to ensure that you will shortly become frustrated with it and perhaps even choose to dismiss it altogether.”
“I quite take your meaning,” he affirmed earnestly.
“Second,” she went on, “my supply of it is limited. It must last long enough to get you past the very worst of your withdrawal, or we will end up right back where we started, if not someplace infinitely more dire.”
He nodded. “All right. Thank you for explaining it to me.”
“I will endeavor to explain every step of this process as we go about it if you will listen and attempt to understand as best you can,” she assured him.
“It is not my intention to keep you in the dark about your own health and well-being. I shall take my leave of you now for a while in the hope that this brief respite might afford you a chance to get some proper sleep.”
She stood, and as she went to the door, he spoke up again: “Earlier, you said that you were beginning to understand why I…” He cleared his throat nervously. “How I had come to be in this position.”
“Why you had chosen to do this to yourself is how I believe I phrased it,” she corrected him.
He looked ashamed. “Well?”
“The wounds whose pain you are attempting to escape did not come to you in battle, James,” she informed him. “You sustained them long before that.”
And with that, she took her leave.
He turned her words around in his head for some time, wondering what they might mean. Before he could figure them out, though, he felt the fog of sleep descend upon him. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to be carried away on it without the aid of laudanum for the first time in months.
It was the soundest sleep he’d had in a very long time.